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Entertaining Ourselves to Death
A Sermon Given
by the Reverend Roger Fritts
on October 1, 2000
at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
This summer, as I do every summer, I flew out west to visit my father
and my stepmother in Prescott, Arizona. Last spring I searched for the
cheapest airfares and I found the best deal was to fly to Las Vegas
(instead of Phoenix) and rent a car. So the end of July found me in
Las Vegas with my fourteen-year-old son, David, and my ten year old
daughter, Rachel. My wife Leslie joined us later.
As I looked at the lights of the city, I remembered a passage by the
social critic Neil Postman. He wrote:
At different times in our history, different cities have
been the focal point of a radiating American spirit. In
the late eighteenth century, for example, Boston was
the center of a political radicalism that ignited a shot
heard round the world. At its report, all Americans
became Bostonians at heart. In the late nineteenth
century, New York became the symbol of the idea of
a melting-pot America as the immigrants from Europe
disembarked and spread over the land. In the early
twentieth century, Chicago, the city of big shoulders,
came to symbolize the industrial energy and dynamism of
America.
Today, Neil Postman said,
We must look to the city of Las Vegas, Nevada as a
metaphor of our national character and aspiration. Las
Vegas is a city entirely devoted to the idea of entertainment, and as
such proclaims the spirit of a culture
in which all public discourse increasingly takes the
form of entertainment. Our politics, religion, news,
athletics, education and commerce have been transformed into adjuncts of
show business, largely without protest or even much popular notice. The result is
that we are a people on the verge of amusing ourselves to death.
So we visited Las Vegas, this metaphor of our national aspiration. We
walked through vast air-conditioned, windowless casinos filled with
artificial light. Hundreds of people stood before slot machines,
holding their plastic cups of coins. They inserted coins, pulled the
handles, waited a moment for the dials to stop spinning, inserted
coins, pulled the handle--over and over again. Always there was the
sounds of bells, buzzers and metallic clatter of coins along with
flashing lights. Although, I did not join in this orgy of gambling, I
could feel the attraction, the dream. Just drop a coin in the slot, pull
the lever and magically you are suddenly rich. No work, no effort, just
wonderful luck.
Gambling is not the only form of seductive entertainment to be found
in Las Vegas. There are, of course, the traditional floor shows, which
I did not go to see, and there are also amusement rides, which I did
visit with my children. We went, for example, to a building in Las
Vegas called the Stratosphere. At 1,149 feet, it is the tallest building
west of the Mississippi River. At the top of the tower is a rotating
restaurant and an observation deck where those who are not afraid of
heights can look out at the strange city that is Las Vegas and at the
desert that is beyond the city.
Atop the Tower is the world's highest roller coaster and something
called the "Big Shot," a free-fall ride that thrusts people 160 feet in
the air along a 228 foot spire at the top of the tower, then plummets
them back down again. Sitting in an open seat, the passengers are
literally dangling in space a thousand feet above Las Vegas. According to
a guide book, people who have traveled the nation to take thrill
rides, say they never felt more frightened than when they rode the Big
Shot.
Personally, I found it difficult just to look out the windows of the
observation tower. My 14-year-old son, on the other hand, paid a
small fee, mustered up his courage, and strapped himself into the Big
Shot. It was, he told me afterwards, a fantastic experience and he
encouraged me to try it. I declined.
However, I did notice in the hours after he rode the Big Shot the
effect of this ride and the burst of adrenaline David received what was
like a massive anti-depressant. He was in a good mood for hours
afterward. He did not even argue with his sister.
David's happiness after riding the Big Shot made me think of another
book I read last summer. This was a book about mountain climbing
called Left for Dead by a medical doctor named Beck Weathers.
In a strange way I saw a connection between this book and the thrill
rides I saw in Las Vegas.
Dr. Weathers is a pathologist who lives in Dallas. Those of you who
have read the book Into Thin Air or have been to the Air and
Space Museum and seen the IMAX movie about Everest may remember
Beck Weathers. Back on May 10, 1996 nine climbers perished in a
storm on Mount Everest. Weathers was nearly the tenth victim of that
storm. High on the mountain, covered with ice and unconscious, he
was left for dead.
Weathers was one of several amateur climbers who each paid a guide
$65,000 to take them to the top of the highest mountain in world.
Weathers was 49 years old when he tried to climb Everest; the same
age as I am now. He had begun his climbing in 1985 when he was on
a summer holiday with his wife and two children, staying at the
YMCA camp in Estes Park, Colorado. I have stayed with my family
at that same YMCA camp for summer holidays. Located near the
entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, it is surrounded by
beautiful forests and mountains. Weathers fell in love with hiking in
those mountains and his visits to Estes Park became an annual
summer event.
Beck Weathers suffered from clinical depression. Although himself
a medical doctor, he hid his depression from other doctors and did not
seek professional help. He found that the strenuous, focused exertion
of climbing mountains relieved his depression. He could throw off the
gloom because he wrote, the mountains, particularly big mountains
forced him to live in the moment. He felt absorbed in the hard work
of climbing and the surroundings. Climbing liberated him physically
and emotionally from the world below. For him it became a form of
self-medication.
I understand the positive feelings that come with mountain climbing.
Back when I was in college a friend of mine took me mountain
climbing several times. I learned to use the ropes and the other gear.
I learned to place my feet carefully and push myself up a rock with
my legs. I found the experience incredibly exhilarating. I struggled at
times to crawl up a granite face with only air and rock below me. But
when I arrived at the top, the view was always extraordinary and the
feelings of happiness and satisfaction were strong. After having
successfully climbing to the top I loved to rappel down the sheer rock.
So as I read Beck Weathers's descriptions of the joy he found
climbing, I could understand how he felt.
As Weathers became more involved in climbing he grew away from
his wife and his two children. His family became less important. He
sought out more mountains to climb as a way to free himself from a
deep sadness and hopelessness that he felt when he was not climbing.
The freedom that he got from depression led him eventually to the
tallest mountain in the world. On May 10, 1996 his wife back in
Dallas received a phone call that her husband was dead high up on
Everest. It would be impossible, she was told, to recover his body. He
was gone forever. She told both her teenage children that their father
was dead.
Back on the mountain, about 4:00 in the afternoon of May 11, Dr.
Weathers suddenly regained consciousness. Aware that he was alone,
aware that his right hand was gloveless and frozen, Beck Weathers
suddenly saw his family in his mind's eye, his wife and his son and
daughter. He struggled to his feet, and remembering that the night
before someone had said that the camp was into the wind, he forced
himself to walk. His hands were completely frozen. His face was
destroyed by cold. He had not eaten in three days or taken in water for
two days. He was almost completely blind. But he kept going.
Weathers wrote that the feeling he would never again say to his wife,
"I love you," that he would never again hold his children, was just not
acceptable.
Eventually, with the help of others Weathers made it down the
mountain to 19,000 feet where a helicopter made the highest-altitude
rescue ever. Due to frostbite, he lost all of his right hand, parts of his
fingers on his left hand and his nose had to be rebuilt with skin grafts.
However, that day on the mountain also changed Dr. Weathers inside.
He wrote:
For the first time in my life I have peace. I no longer
seek to define myself externally, through goals and
achievements and material possessions. For the first
time in my life, I'm comfortable inside my own skin.
I searched all over the world for that which would
fulfill me, and all along it was in my own backyard.
In the last few years many people have asked Weathers if he prayed
when he was on the mountain. He answers that he did not say a
prayer, but then he goes on to say
If prayer isn't just words, but instead that thing you
believe with all your heart at the core of your being,
then I surely did pray. On Everest, more than any
other time in my life, I had a sense of what was
important to me, what I truly cherished.
I found the story of this man's near death experience powerful
because I found in his life some similarities to my own. We are about
the same age, and I, like him, worked hard to be a success at the
calling that I chose. And like Dr. Weathers, I have found a certain
exhilaration in walking up a mountain. I have fond memories of the
hikes I have made up peaks in Arizona and in California, in New
Hampshire and in Switzerland.
On the other hand, like Dr. Weathers, I have come to the conclusion
that it is not enough to spend my life only in search of entertainment.
Although the thrill and drama of climbing a mountain can be
powerful, it is only a temporary thrill. There is more to life.
Now, I do not want to sound too much like a Puritan. Puritanism has
been defined as the fear that somewhere, someone is having fun. I
think just having fun is ok. Reading fantasy novels, watching a
movie, enjoying music, or watching a sporting event on television or
even riding a roller coaster can be a relaxing escape. I am not against
pleasure. However, entertainment alone does not complete my life. I
have found that to feel whole, to feel complete, I need to be committed
to something more than simply entertaining myself.
In the end it is not the entertainers or the mountain climbers whom I
most admire. My heros, my models are those who are committed to
something more.
- I admire the mothers and the fathers who are committed to
being good parents to their children.
- I admire the teachers who are committed to sharing the
accumulated knowledge of the world with the next generation.
- I admire the scientist who is committed to expanding human
knowledge.
They have analyzed their priorities. They have devoted themselves to
a productive life, a specific task that serves the common good. They
understand the importance of a job well done. In a culture that
constantly encourages us to find happiness in consuming entertainment and
consuming adventures, they have found happiness by
making a commitment to something beyond themselves.
- I admire the diplomat who is committed to trying to negotiate
peace between warring groups.
- I admire the physician who is committed to healing the sick.
- I admire the community activist who is committed to helping
others.
The temptations of the entertainment culture are all around us.
Everyday we are offered more opportunities to be entertained. There
are video games and VCRs and now DVDs. There are new wide
screen high definition television. There is CD music and now MP3
music. Within a year we will be able to subscribe to satellite radio
broadcasts. Satellite TV will soon offer over 500 channels, while
cable TV will offer us fast Internet connections. There thousands of
opportunities to travel and see the world as tourism becomes one of
the most important businesses the world over. This country is filled
with bookstores stores and movie theaters. And of course there are
those cheap flights to Las Vegas. There are many ways to be
entertained. It is all very seductive.
I am not against entertainment. However, a life that consists only of
entertainment will leave me feeling unfulfilled. I think a complete life
is a committed life.
- So I admire the farmer who is committed to nurturing the
crops.
- I admire the carpenter who is committed to building a house
that will last.
- I admire the librarian who is committed to maintaining and
sharing knowledge.
We returned home in August and the day after I got back I officiated
at a wedding in the chapel here at the church. As I stood before the
couple and they said the words of the service, I was struck again
about how words of commitment are central to the ceremony. Of
course, for many reasons I know that sometimes the marriage does
not work. But the intent going in is one of a deep and lasting promise
of commitment. After a day in Las Vegas, witnessing in this building
deep and sincere promise of commitment between two people,
renewed my hope for humanity and for America. The couple did not
promise to stay together for as long as they found each other entertaining
or amusing. They promised to stay together through poverty
and sickness, for better or worse, until death do they part.
Amen, I said silently to myself. Amen.
Rev. Roger Fritts, cluuc@his.com
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